


The Evil Among Us

by Khiori63



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Artwork "Chemistry" by Khiori, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiori63/pseuds/Khiori63
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anticipated 'honeymoon' for Kirk and Spock turns tragic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evil Among Us

**_She was perfect. He’d known it the moment he first saw her and it had been sweet agony to stalk her until the right moment. That she was a woman was an unexpected bonus--there weren’t that many female officers stationed here-but she was Starfleet and that was all that really mattered.  Now it was time for her to pay the price..._ **

 

Kirk opened his eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the large bedroom windows.  A slight breeze stirred the long curtains, bringing with it the scent of the nearby ocean.  He could just hear the waves as they gently rolled across the sand.  All of it, sight, scent, and sound, filled him with a quiet peace.  He was still encased warmly under the bedclothes and around his back was wrapped the man he loved.

 

_The man I love._

 

Kirk rolled that thought around his brain for a moment.

 

Spock clung to him like a Vulcan _hirat_ , arms encircling Kirk’s chest and stomach, hands closed over his own.  Long legs were entangled in his so that almost his entire body was in contact with smooth, velvety skin; his head nestled comfortably between his pillow and one bony shoulder.  He began rubbing the ball of his foot gently over the top of Spock's in a loving caress.  The position of the sun told him it was late morning, past time for both of them to be up.  Still, he didn't move, giving in to the desire to simply lie there and savor the feel of the lean frame against his own, the rhythmic rise and fall of the furred chest, the warm breath blowing steadily against his neck, and most of all the growing arousal of the impressive shaft nestled in the crack of his ass.  He shivered slightly as his cock stirred in response, his thoughts filled with the memories of last night. 

 

_You offered your body to me just as you've always offered your loyalty, your friendship-freely, without reservation, expecting nothing in return.  How can I do any less for you?  You've felt the sting of rejection so many times in your life and you didn't deserve any of it.  Well, that's not going to happen again.  Not this time, because I'm going to give you as much, if not more than you've always given me.  You don't even need to ask._

 

He pressed closer, the movement rousing his bedmate.  Arms tightened even more as lips came to rest against his ear.  “Jim?” 

 

“It's okay, Spock.  Go back to sleep.”  It was highly doubtful he could do the same as the now-substantial erection was snuggled comfortably in the furrow of his body.

 

 

 _God, he's big_.  The thought filled him with some trepidation.  He shifted closer, testing the length, the breadth.   _Will he even fit?  What happens if...?_

 

The thought trailed off as he felt a stab of guilt.  Spock had taken everything from him last night without complaint.  Even when he'd been too rough, too hurried.  Now it was up to Kirk to give of himself in return.  While there was some anxiety at the thought, he refused to let it sway his decision.  This was Spock.  The kindest, gentlest being he knew.  The one he trusted above all others.  As Spock trusted him.  That trust had been the foundation of their friendship right from the beginning and he would not let this new development in their relationship change that.  No matter what.

 

He wriggled even closer.

 

“Jim,” the voice was strained.  “If you persist in such behavior, I shall find it impossible to return to sleep.”  Spock's already firm grip tightened even more as his hips gave an almost imperceptible thrust, forcing his hardened shaft further against Kirk's crack.

 

Kirk drew in a sharp breath at the sensation.  “It's yours, Spock.  Take what you need.”  He closed his eyes and waited.

 

Teeth nibbled gently on his ear.  “As I recall, you informed me of such last night.”

 

Kirk nodded.  “I remember.  And I meant it.”  To his surprise, desire rose, filling him with an overwhelming need to give himself to Spock and to use their passion to bind them together for all time.  Most of all, he wanted to ease the trepidation growing inside him that Spock would come to believe this was nothing more than just another romp for love-'em-and-leave-'em Kirk, a short fling before he found his next conquest.  God knows Spock had seen him do exactly that so many times in the past, so what was to prevent the Vulcan from thinking now would be any different?  Especially since it was.  For Kirk, this time it was forever and he wanted Spock to know that, to have the same bedrock certainty in their physical relationship as he did in their friendship.  “I still mean it.  Last night changed everything.  I'm yours.  Now and forever.”

 

“As I am yours.” 

 

A hand trailed down his stomach and settled over his groin, long fingers gently kneading and stroking his balls.  Kirk gave a sharp hiss as his cock immediately responded to that warm touch, swelling and pulsing as it sought relief.  He closed his eyes, giving in to the sensations.  “I have a feeling waking up with you every day is going to be a test of stamina.”

 

“If so, I am confident it is a test I shall pass.”  The hand gave a slight squeeze, eliciting a slight moan.  “As a Vulcan, I possess far superior...”

 

Kirk poked him with an elbow.  “Don't give me any of that 'superior Vulcan' crap.  You seem to forget, you were the one who ran out of gas before I did last night.”

 

He could almost feel the eyebrow rise.  “Ran out of gas?”

 

 

Kirk grinned.  He was certain Spock knew exactly what he meant; it was just one of those little games they played.  “Never mind.”  He playfully made as if to rise.  “It's getting late.  How about some breakfast?”  He was just teasing, still, he really did want to give Spock everything he needed and deserved.  Food, shelter, safety, security, comfort.  And endless hours of love. 

 

A hand wrapped around his cock and tugged gently, effectively keeping him in place.  “That will not be necessary.  I believe I have all the sustenance I need right here.”  Spock nuzzled the juncture of Kirk's neck and shoulder, sending tiny sparks dancing along his spine.

 

“Well, then, how about a shower?  I don't know about you, but I could really use one.”  Spock's semen from his first climax of the night was now a drying, flaking patch on his belly, causing his skin to itch.

 

“As you wish, however, perhaps a slight delay...?”  The hand tightened its grip and began a steady, pumping motion.

 

Kirk threw his head back and groaned as every nerve ending in his body suddenly ignited, shooting intense waves of pleasure throughout his body straight to his groin.  “Spock!”  He gasped out the name as fingers played with his testicles with an expertise that amazed him and inflamed his desire.  A part of his mind remained coherent enough to remember to spread his legs, allowing that hand easier access.  _Take me.  Possess me as I possessed you._

 

As if he heard the silent plea, Spock released him and moved back slightly, his penis sliding back and forth against Kirk's perineum, the wet tip nudging the back of his balls. 

 

“Jim?”  There was no mistaking the urgency in that voice, yet he knew Spock would go no further without permission.

 

He closed his legs, trapping the Vulcan's shaft between his thighs, the warmth of his flesh providing even more stimulation.  “Yes, Spock, yes...”  He suppressed a shudder, refusing to think about what was going to happen next.  Spock needed this, they both did, and that was enough to keep the rising fear and apprehension at bay.  It had to be enough...

 

Spock's arms tightened around him, keeping him firmly in place, cutting off any means of escape.  He fought the urge to struggle, to get away...  _Is this how I made you feel last night?  Were you ready for it?  Keep going, Spock.  Hold me down if you have to.  Take what you need.  I'll still love you..._

 

_ _

 

Spock shifted slightly, positioning himself as the head of his cock probed gently for the entrance...

 

The sudden beeping of the comm unit startled them both.

 

“Shit!”  The curse did little to blunt Kirk's anger at the unexpected and unwelcome interruption.  Behind him, Spock pulled away and sat up. 

 

“Shall I...?”  He made as if to rise.

 

 

Kirk waved a hand.  “No, I'll get it.”  He crossed over to the unit.  Who could possibly be calling?  He and Spock were the only members of the Enterprise crew on the planet.  The ship had left orbit yesterday on a standard “milk run”, ferrying various diplomats from one planet to another so they could attend conferences that would undoubtedly produce more talk than action. As much as he hated to be parted from his lady, Kirk had to admit he was glad for once he'd chosen to stay behind.  Especially when he found out Spock decided to do the same.  It gave them the perfect opportunity to celebrate what was to all intents and purposes their honeymoon.  Of course he and Spock were the only ones who were privy to that little fact-even Bones was still in the dark.  But since the good doctor, along with the rest of the crew, was long gone and since there were very few people on the planet who even knew they'd been left behind...  Then again, if one of those “few people” was making the call, it might not bode well for said honeymoon.

 

He slapped on the device.  “Kirk here.”  He made no attempt to hide the ire in his voice.  Just because he had to answer the damn thing didn't mean he had to like it.

 

“Captain Kirk?  This is Admiral Bernoll.  Can you come down to the base?  There's a problem and...”

 

Alarm rose.  “Is it the Enterprise?”

 

“No, Captain.  It's...something else.”

 

**_She was blindfolded as the others had been, partly because he didn't want to risk identification and partly because the eyes always made him uncomfortable.  The rest of her body, however, expressed the fear and panic she felt most exquisitely.  He hadn't gagged her yet-that would come when the screams began and there was a chance someone would hear-but for now every whimper and plea was music to his ears.  She was naked, tied spread-eagled as the others had been and he took great pleasure in her terrified writhing and jerking as he touched and probed her most intimate parts.  Soon she would be struggling wildly, uselessly, to escape the pain and torment his methods of torture never failed to produce.  The thought alone filled him with a perverse pleasure._ **

****

**_Licking his lips in eager anticipation, he reached for the first device..._ **

 

 

A third one.  Kirk hadn’t even known there’d been two others.  Word had spread throughout the base, but for some reason no one bothered to tell them what was going on.  Until now. 

 

He and Spock were seated in Admiral Bernoll’s office as the older, gray-haired man slid a disc into a terminal and turned it so they could view the contents.

 

“Here’s what we have on the latest victim, gentlemen.  She was abducted two days ago and found early this morning.  Same M.O. as the others.  Taken and held for 48 hours, then left in places where there was a high probability they'd be discovered.  I’ve got a total of eight investigators working around the clock on this, but the only thing we know for sure is that the perpetrator in all three cases is a male, apparently human.  But whoever he is, he’s being extremely careful to cover his tracks.  We haven’t found any substantial evidence, either on the victims or in the areas where they were found, that could help identify him.”

 

 

“What about witnesses?”

 

Bernoll shook his head.  “None, Captain.  No one saw or heard anything, either during the abductions or when the victims were subsequently released.”

 

Kirk traded a glance with Spock before they leaned forward to view the data.  On the screen was a holo of a young, attractive female with a mass of blond hair piled on top of her head and a pair of striking blue eyes.  The information below listed her as 22 year-old Ensign Tracy Docelli, just a year out of the Academy and assigned to the base as a research assistant.  One item worth noting was that she had high marks for self-defense training, yet according to the report, she’d been snatched in broad daylight, with no signs of a struggle.      

 

Kirk flipped to the next screen and his eyes widened even as he heard a sharp intake of breath beside him.  The description of the injuries was nauseating enough without the accompanying images - severe beating, burn marks, indications of sodomy and partial asphyxia.  According to the medical report, she was alive only because a member of the populace had stumbled across her in a small park where her assailant had apparently left her.  There could be little doubt whoever did this wanted her found-the humiliating and degrading manner in which he'd posed her beaten and bruised form was a clear taunt to every Starfleet officer on the base.  For Kirk, it was an outright declaration of war.  A war this...monster...was not going to win.

 

It all started less than three weeks ago with the first victim, Lieutenant Brice Carvor.  Like Docelli, he’d gone missing for two days before he was discovered unconscious, naked, and bound, less than 8 kilometers away from the very building they were in.  He also had been physically and sexually abused, although between the two, Docelli seemed to have gotten the worst of it.  Less fortunate was Lieutenant Commander Samuel Beckwith.  The injuries he sustained from his ordeal proved too severe to overcome and he died less than an hour after being found near the same area as Carvor.

 

Kirk nodded toward the terminal.  “How’s she doing?”

 

Bernoll shrugged.  “She’s in serious but stable condition.  According to the doctors, physically she should make a full recovery.  Mentally...” his voice lowered, almost talking to himself.  “You never think something like this could happen in your own backyard-“

 

Kirk straightened in his chair.  “We’ll find him, Admiral.  Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake and someone will see or hear something-“

 

Bernoll gave him a frustrated look.  “And how many more lives will he ruin before then, Captain?  We can’t afford to wait for him to make that mistake-we need to stop him now.”  He waved a hand in their direction.  “And since all his victims so far have been Starfleet, that makes you two targets, as well.  I strongly advise you to take every precaution, gentlemen.  We have no idea who or where he might strike next.”

 

Kirk traded another glance with Spock before turning back to Bernoll.  “Understood.  Is there anything we can do to help?”

 

 

Bernoll looked relieved.  “I was hoping you'd ask.  The more people we have looking for whoever this is, the better our chances of catching him before he does this to anyone else.”

 

“In that case, I think it’s best to start by going over the files.  Then I'd like to meet with the investigators.  Say in about an hour?”

 

“Certainly.  There's a vacant office right down the hall.  You can access all the records from that terminal.”

 

“Thank you.”  Kirk rose and shook hands with the admiral before heading down the hall, Spock at his side.  Kirk gave him a wry grin.  “Well, so much for our leave.”

 

An eyebrow rose.  “Do you not feel it is more imperative that we assist in apprehending this individual?”

 

Kirk paused and turned to face his companion.  “Of course I do.  It’s just...I wanted this time to be special for you.”

 

“I assure you, it is.”  A finger rose and brushed his lips as the deep voice dropped to a soft rumble.  “It is immaterial to me what activities we engage in during our stay here.  So long as we are together.”

 

The simple, heartfelt honesty of those words touched a chord deep in Kirk's heart.  He was filled with the overwhelming desire to gather this most special being in his arms and lavish kisses over every millimeter of that beloved face.  But not here.  Once they got home, however...  For the moment, he settled for a gentle smile.  “You know I love you, right?”

 

“Indeed.”  Brown eyes sparkling with warmth and devotion met his own.

 

Kirk's smile grew wider, then with a simple touch he led Spock to the designated office.  They pulled two chairs up to the desk and settled down to peruse the data.  If they were to meet with the investigators soon, they had a lot of catching up to do. 

 

Kirk flipped the terminal on.  “I think the first question we need to ask is why this person is just targeting members of Starfleet.  Think he's got a grudge or something?”

 

“Difficult to say.  Perhaps his motivation is revenge.”

 

“Yes, but for what?  There's nothing to show any of the three victims ever crossed paths with him before.”

 

“True.  But based on Admiral Bernoll's statements, the perpetrator was successful in concealing his identity from at least two of those victims during the time they were in his possession.  There is also the question as to whether the same individual is responsible for all three incidents.”

 

“I don't know about that, Spock.  I find it hard to believe three different people would commit three separate crimes that were practically identical to one another.  Odds are it's the same person.”

 

 

“If so, he is evidently taking great care in not only who he chooses to apprehend, but also the methods used to do so.  All three had means to defend themselves, yet...”

 

“Yet he was able to snatch them right off the street with no one else even noticing.  Hard to believe someone could do that if these were just random attacks.  My guess is he's picking his targets, stalking them for a few days, learning their habits, and then making his move.”

 

“A distinct possibility.  Yet it does not explain why his third victim was female.  It has long been established that serial killers tend to focus their efforts on one particular sex.”

 

Kirk shrugged.  “Well, first of all, I don't know if I'd call him a serial killer.  Only one person died and that was because he wasn't found in time.”

 

“A fate that could have easily befallen the others.”

 

“I disagree.  Whoever this is, he seems to want his victims to survive.  Otherwise, he could have just as easily killed them and dumped their bodies in some remote area where it might be months, even years before they were discovered.  Instead, each one was left in a place where there was a good chance he or she'd be found before it was too late.  Just because he miscalculated with Beckwith... As for his third victim being female-maybe that's immaterial to him.  Maybe all he cares about is going after anyone who's in Starfleet, no matter what their gender.”

 

“Perhaps.  If nothing else, it presents a unique case.”

 

“Unique or not, as Bernoll said, we need to stop him before he has a chance to strike again.  So let's get started.”

 

Spock nodded his agreement and they bent over their work. They had a monster to find.

 

**_The need arose more quickly, became stronger after each attack.  Fortunately, there was no scarcity of prey; it was just a matter of time and patience before the opportunity to strike once again presented itself.  He'd already made his selection, Now all he had to do was watch and wait.  That his intended target didn't even know he was being stalked made the hunt all the more stimulating.  Even better, the others were becoming anxious, And worried his officer “friends” at the bar.  They'd told him as much, confided in him, unaware he was the one they should fear.  The thought he was the cause of all that anxiety and trepidation filled him with excitement.  It was almost enough to keep him going until he had his prey in his hands, bound and helpless, to do with as he pleased.  And oh, did he have some wonderful new ideas this time around, Wonderful for him, excruciatingly painful for the one who would soon be at his mercy..._ **

 

The meeting with the investigators proved pretty much unproductive.  They learned little more than what they already knew from studying the case file.  No physical evidence, no witnesses to any of the abductions, no clues left at the sites where the victims were found.  The two survivors told the investigators they thought at some point they'd been transported in an air car, presumably the suspect's, but they could no more say what type of car or where it had taken them than they could identify their captor.  Bottom line, there was simply nothing to go on.  No discernable motive as to why Starfleet personnel were being targeted, no pattern to the abductions, no way to anticipate where or when the perpetrator would strike next.  Only one thing seemed certain-it was only a matter of time before he claimed another victim and at the moment, they could do nothing to stop him.

 

“You get the feeling we're chasing a ghost?”  Kirk made no attempt to hide the frustration in his voice as they returned to the office.  He dropped down into his chair.

 

Spock seated himself with more restraint, but Kirk knew he too was feeling discouraged.  There was no reply to his query as the Vulcan sat motionless, seemingly lost in thought, his gaze focused on the far wall.  After a moment, he turned to Kirk.  “Perhaps we are, I believe the phrase is, 'going about this the wrong way'?”

 

“Maybe.  Problem is, I can't think of the right way.  Or any way for that matter.  Can you?” 

 

Spock raised his shoulder slightly, the equivalent of a Vulcan shrug.  “Not at the moment.”

 

Kirk rubbed a hand over his face, stifling a yawn.  “Maybe we should talk to the victims ourselves.”

 

“I doubt such an effort would yield any useful results.  They have already been questioned most extensively.”

 

“Still, it's worth a shot.  Besides, there's really nothing else we can do.  Except wait until he does this to somebody else.”  The holos of young Docelli's beaten and tortured body came to mind.  He closed his eyes and shuddered.  God only knew who would be next...

 

A hand came to rest on his arm.  “Jim?”

 

His eyes opened to meet brown ones filled with compassion and concern.  He gave a small smile.  “I'm alright, Spock.  It's just...I've got a really bad feeling about all this.”  His expression grew serious as he leaned forward intently.  “I want you to be very, very careful from now on.  I have no intentions of him getting his hands on either one of us.  But I can't help thinking he's going to try.”

 

Spock frowned, but remained silent.  Not that Kirk expected him to protest.  They'd learned long ago to trust each other's instincts, despite how “illogical” his Vulcan science officer thought those instincts to be.

 

After a moment, Spock nodded.  “Agreed.  And if I may, it would be wise for you to heed your own advice.”

 

Kirk inclined his head, yet he couldn't help the rising sense of anxiety.  Even if they caught this...person...before he struck again, it still wouldn't be soon enough for Kirk.  He just couldn't shake the feeling it was going to get a lot worse before it was finally over. 

 

 

**_He was getting desperate.  He'd been stalking his prey for hours, yet he'd been unable to make his move, for this one was never alone.  Now it had disappeared and although he was confident he'd eventually have it in his sights again, time was running out.  If the right moment didn't present itself soon, he'd be forced to choose another.  But not yet.  He would wait just a little longer.  There was still a chance this one could be his.  To possess.  To dominate.  To do with as he pleased.  He needed it. He *deserved* it._ **

****

**_And they owed him._ **

 

 

After spending a useless hour conceiving and rejecting one theory after another with his first officer, Kirk rose and stretched, stifling another yawn.  He turned to Spock who remained seated, noting the slightly slumped posture-a sure sign of fatigue.  “It's getting late.  I think I'll go to the hospital and talk to Docelli and Carvor.  Why don't you head home and get some rest?”

 

Spock quickly gained his feet.  “Not necessary.  I can...”

 

Kirk held up a hand.  “No, Spock.  It's been a long day and if we're going to solve this thing, we need to stay fresh.”

 

An eyebrow rose.  “May I point the 'we' applies to both of us?”

 

“You certainly may.  But I shouldn't be more than an hour or so.  Here...”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the magnetic key to their air car.  He tossed it to Spock.  “I'll hire transport.”

 

Spock easily caught the tiny object, then his gaze focused once again on Kirk.  “Jim...”

 

“I know.  I'll be careful.  Now go on, get out of here.”

 

A nod, then Spock left the office and headed down the hall.  It was only after he disappeared around the corner that Kirk made his own way out of the station.  If he hurried, maybe he could shave some time off of that hour.  Despite all that was happening, there was still a promise to keep...

 

**_At last, he had his chance.  It was time._ **

That one hour turned to almost two before Kirk was finally able to head for home.  While the questioning of Carvor had gone smoothly, such was not the case with Docelli.  Three hours of surgery that afternoon left her heavily sedated and she had a difficult time understanding and answering his questions.  Neither one, however, could provide any information he didn't already know.

 

As the air cab pulled into the driveway, Kirk noted with some surprise the house was dark.  Their rental car was parked in its usual spot, so obviously Spock had made it home.  But why weren't there any lights on?  Unless he was already in bed.  Or meditating.   Still, it didn't make much sense he'd leave Kirk to stumble around in the dark. 

 

 

As Kirk started up the driveway and past the car, something glinting in the moonlight caught his eye.  He reached down and picked up the magnetic key.  For a moment, he stared at the small object resting in his hand, then his gaze shifted to the house.  That same sense of anxiety he'd felt earlier returned, but he quickly suppressed it.  No.  There was no way.  Spock had simply dropped the key without realizing it before heading into the house and going to bed.  Just because he hadn't heard it hit the ground or noticed it was missing when he got inside...just because he'd forgotten to leave the lights on....  Those were far more likely possibilities than the one he refused to consider.  Yet the apprehension, the sense of foreboding that something was wrong, the intuition that had saved his ship and his crew countless times-all told him otherwise.

 

In two strides he was at the front door.  He keyed it open, then paused.  What if he was right?  Then it was conceivable the man they sought could still be inside.  Waiting for him.  Because maybe one victim wasn't enough this time...

 

He slipped slowly, cautiously into the house, then paused, listening intently.  All was quiet; that same sense of intuition telling him he was alone.  Too alone.

 

He dialed up the lights, his gaze sweeping the room.  Nothing was out of place; there were no signs of a struggle.  If Spock had been taken, it hadn't happened here.  He quickly searched the rest of the house, but knew before he'd even finished that his actions were futile.  He was indeed alone.

 

Starship captains weren't supposed to panic.  They were trained to deal with emergencies calmly and rationally, to maintain control in order to handle the unexpected and sometimes hazardous situations that often arose when dealing with the unknown.  So Kirk found himself going over to the comm unit with extreme self-possession to contact Admiral Bernoll's office and report his first officer as missing, presumed kidnapped, with the strong possibility he had become their suspect's latest victim.

 

But deep inside, a combination of fear and dread churned his stomach and twisted his heart as one thought kept circulating over and over in his brain.  _“Oh, God, he's got Spock...”_

 

**_He'd done things a little differently this time.  Whereas he'd positioned all his previous victims on their backs before strapping them down, this one he'd allowed to remain standing.  Not that it made all that much difference-the hands bound tightly over its head and the metal bar spreading its ankles far apart left it just as vulnerable and helpless as the others.  Subject to his complete domination.  That was what really mattered-that his victims were unable to avoid the fear and agony of their ordeal.  It was that feeling of absolute control, of hearing them scream and cry and plead uselessly for him to stop, that's what made it all worthwhile._ **

****

**_  
_ **

**_But before he started on this one, he would tell it, as he'd told the others, some of what he planned to do.  Not too much, for that would take away the element of surprise, but just enough to fill it with anticipation and dread.  He'd found that such anticipation only fueled his own pleasure as he patiently, skillfully applied his methods that would soon have his latest conquest begging for mercy.  At the moment the dark head, the customary blindfold covering the eyes, was held high in a gesture of defiance, but that only made him smile.  He would change that.  Soon.  He was the one in control and it was only a matter of time before this one realized it, as well..._ **

****

**_In a voice trembling with excitement, he began to describe, in graphic detail, his intentions as he reached for the first device..._ **

 

 

There was nothing.  In all the data that had been collected, there was nothing that hadn't been there before.  Not one clue to tell him where to look for Spock; nothing found in the house or the surrounding area to indicate how and when he'd been taken, never mind where... 

 

Kirk grit his teeth and fought the urge to slam his fist against the desk.  Hard.  Not that it would help, but he needed some outlet for the frustration and anxiety that threatened to tear him apart.  He shoved his chair back and rose, pacing back and forth in the small office he'd shared with Spock that first day they became involved in this horrific ordeal.  It seemed an eternity ago...

 

Twenty-four hours.  Twenty-four hours since Spock had vanished.  Plenty of time for a sadist to do his work, to play all his sick little games.

 

But pacing the room like a caged tiger wouldn't give him what he wanted most, although it did provide some release for the rage and helplessness that seethed within.  He sat back down and reached for the nearby terminal with one hand while the other curled into a tight fist in his lap.  He began to scan the information on the screen, knowing it was useless-he'd gone over it dozens of times already.  The few details they did have brought little comfort-except for one pertinent fact.  None of the victims thus far had gone missing more than 48 hours.  How much of those 48 hours was actually spent in their captor's hands was anyone's guess, since there was no way to tell how long, once freed, they'd laid unconscious before they were found.  Another important piece of information-each had been left in a place he or she was sure to be discovered, as if this...creature wanted to make sure his handiwork wouldn't go unnoticed.  Kirk could only hope that, sick as it was, the same would happen with Spock.  With no leads to follow and not the slightest idea where to look, it was the only chance he had of getting his Vulcan back.  Provided Spock, unlike Beckwith, didn't succumb to his injuries first...

 

He took a deep breath, shaking off the disturbing thought.  If only there was something, some key, some indication to the method to this madness.  If not the victims, then the motive, the geography, the timing, something.  There had to be a reason for all this.  But what?  It was a question he and everyone else on the case had asked themselves and each other numerous times.  But they were no closer to an answer than when this whole nightmare began.  A nightmare Spock was now in the middle of...

 

Kirk wearily reached for the terminal again. Maybe if he mapped it out...

 

A quiet knock caught his attention and he looked up to see Bernoll standing in the doorway. 

 

 

“Captain, we've just received a call.  Anonymous tip.”  He held out a hand, in which rested a small disc.  “We think we've found Commander Spock.”  In his other hand was a phaser.

 

It took a moment for the words to sink in, for Kirk to realize that this was the moment he'd been desperately waiting for.  Then he was gone.

 

He didn't remember grabbing the disc and phaser out of Bernoll's hands.  Or the mad dash to the air car.  Or of shoving the disc into the onboard computer to feed in the coordinates.  Or of sending the car hurtling down darkened streets at maximum speed, barely able to keep it in control.  Reason prevailed long enough to contact Bernoll's office to verify medics were on the way.   The voice on the other end assured him they were only minutes behind, along with two dozen or so security personnel.  While Kirk knew he needed the help, he was determined to arrive before the others.  For if that madman was still there, Kirk wanted to be the first to get his hands on him.  If not, if it was just Spock...then it was even more important no one else was around.  He needed those few minutes alone with his Vulcan, to touch him, to hold him, to reassure him he was safe and it was all over.  More importantly, Spock needed it, too.  If, if he was still alive...

 

Kirk soon found himself in a more remote section of the base, facing a house that was more than 3 kilometers away from its nearest neighbor.  He paused only long enough to grab the med kit and blanket from the back of the car before racing to the door.  It gave way with little effort and he barreled in, phaser drawn, his eyes sweeping the area, searching for any signs of the suspect.  But it soon became apparent he was long gone.  The room was completely empty, devoid of even one stick of furniture.  Then in the dim light, he saw a figure in the far corner and all else was forgotten.

 

Stripped of its clothing, the lean frame bore stark evidence of the abuse it had suffered.  Harsh, angry bruises, open welts, and splotches of dried blood were scattered over the torso like some obscene disease.  The head was tilted straight back, partially lost in shadow, the heavy blindfold over the eyes keeping its wearer in a world of perpetual darkness.

 

But that wasn't even the worst of it.

 

Suspended by a thick cable encircling his wrists, Spock's feet barely touched the ground, forcing him to take most of his weight on his wrists.  His hands were swollen to twice their normal size as blood tried to force its way through partially crushed veins.  But most frightening were the harsh gasps that filled the room as he struggled to breathe, his constricted ribs making it an almost impossible task.  The effort seemed to take more strength than the battered form had to give and Kirk's relief at finding Spock alive quickly turned to horror as he realized the Vulcan was fighting a battle he couldn't possibly win.

 

 All coherent thought fled as he rushed forward, phaser at the ready.  He wrapped one arm around Spock and lifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on overtaxed lungs.  The usually warm skin was cold and clammy to the touch, covered with a slight sheen of sweat.  The body pressed against his was rigid, chest heaving, desperately trying to draw in life-giving air. 

 

 

Speechless with terror and rage, Kirk aimed his weapon at the cable and fired.  He tightened his grip as it began to give way and gravity threatened to tear Spock from his hold.  A few seconds later the cable snapped and Spock pitched forward into his arms.  Kirk gently lowered himself to his knees, pulling his precious burden into his lap, curling his legs underneath to keep Spock away from the cold, hard floor.  It was then he caught his first glimpse of the bare back.  The sight of swollen and bloody lash marks crisscrossing the pale skin brought the sting of furious tears.  Fortunately, Spock seemed conscious on only the most basic level, unaware of both the pain and the fact his hellish nightmare had finally come to an end.

 

Kirk pulled the blindfold off, not surprised to see the eyes were tightly closed.  At the same time Spock began shivering violently and Kirk quickly reached for the blanket, wrapping it with tender care around the shuddering form.  Spock's arms were still locked into position above his head, muscles cramped and stiffened from the prolonged strain.  Kirk began massaging them vigorously and his efforts were soon rewarded as the limbs gradually regained some of their flexibility until he was able to lower first one, then the other, and tuck them both under the blanket.  Thankfully, Spock was now breathing much easier, his lungs no longer laboring for air.  Kirk eased him up gently, using his shoulder to support the still-quaking form.  He adjusted the blanket so that it covered them both, trapping his own body heat underneath, allowing Spock full access to the warmth he so desperately needed.  The tactic soon worked as the Vulcan's tremors gradually diminished.  A few moments later Spock moaned, a tired, helpless sound as his eyes slowly opened, glazed over with exhaustion and pain.  Eventually they focused on Kirk and a tiny whimper escaped parched and cracked lips. 

 

Something tightened around Kirk's heart.  He pulled his beloved even closer, using voice and touch to comfort and reassure.  “It's all right, Spock.  It's over.  He won't hurt you again.  I promise.”

For a moment there was no response, then Spock's body gradually relaxed against his own.  The drawn face turned inward, burying itself against his neck as if seeking refuge from the memories of his horrific ordeal.  His shivering increased in intensity and Kirk tightened his hold, his lips pressed against the mass of tangled black hair.  He closed his eyes and began murmuring soft words of reassurance and love until his voice was gradually drowned out by the sirens of emergency vehicles racing toward them, signaling an end to 24 hours of hell.  For both of them.

 

**_Temporarily sated, he began a leisurely search for his next target.  With the recent increase in personnel, he now had a much wider variety to choose from. Still, regardless of race or sex, they were all still the same-each one just as deserving of his anger.  They had to pay his price for that anger-every last one of them-and their futile and pitiful attempts to stop him from exacting his revenge were just further proof of their own selfishness.  He had every right to punish them for that, and for so much more.  Some of them had laughed at him once, called him crazy and stupid, but who was laughing now?_ **

****

**_  
_ **

**_Perhaps he’d take another female this time.  If so, he'd make sure she was human.  This last one, the Vulcan, had proven much too stubborn for his taste.  He liked it best when his prey cried and pleaded for mercy, some even offering him their bodies if only he would stop.  But the Vulcan had refused to do so, had barely even made a sound.  It had angered him greatly; this lack of response, of respect for his skills, and his rage drove him to inflict more damage than he had on the others.  Still, that was fulfilling in itself, exciting even.  Yes, he’d definitely have to go further with the next one, as well.  Afterwards, he’d simply discard it as he had the rest, leaving it to mark the territory he was gradually claiming as his own._ **

****

**_He set out again on the hunt._ **

 

The physician who'd examined Spock at the base hospital informed Kirk that of all his injuries, the partial suffocation he'd suffered had been the most cause for concern.  Fortunately, tests revealed it hadn't resulted in any permanent damage and Spock was now listed in serious but stable condition.  His other injuries, while disturbing, proved to be non-lethal - evidence of a prolonged beating with a blunt instrument causing extensive bruising and several cracked ribs, severe swelling of his hands due to the partial loss of circulation, torn muscles in his hips and shoulders from the prolonged suspension he’d been forced to endure, infected, open welts over his back and buttocks, and signs of foreign body anal insertion.  There were also traces of a drug in his system; preliminary tests showed it to be a type of sedative, its likely purpose to ensure helpless compliance.  Its effects were still evident as Spock slept through the entire exam, never stirring even as his wounds were dressed and painkillers and antibiotics administered.  Afterward, he was moved to a private room where the temperature and lighting could be adjusted to ensure maximum comfort.  The doctor assured Kirk that from this point on, all Spock really needed was rest, re-hydration, and time to heal.

 

To heal from the unimaginable. 

 

Foreign body anal insertion.  Those four words kept repeating themselves over and over in Kirk's mind.  Not sodomy, at least, still, the thought brought little comfort.  That Spock had been violated in any way by that...that...animal filled Kirk with a deadly rage.  A rage that only grew stronger as he stared at the blanket-wrapped form of his lover.  Even in sleep, Spock's face reflected the emotional toll his captivity had taken on him, with lines of stress and pain etched across the pale features.   On occasion the eyes would open, glazed over from the painkillers, to stare unblinkingly at Kirk for long moments.  But there was no recognition in his gaze and nothing Kirk said seemed to penetrate the drug-induced haze clouding the Vulcan's mind.  Finally, Kirk took to silently stroking the black hair until Spock eventually fell back asleep.  That simple gesture seemed to bring a measure of comfort that words could not as Spock lost some of the troubled expression that had been present since his rescue.

 

 

Kirk pulled up a chair and settled himself next to the bed, his gaze focused on the still form.  While Spock's breathing had a slight unevenness to it, remnants of a stripped-dry throat and broken ribs, at least it wasn't that horrific fight for life with each inhalation.  Kirk found he couldn't dwell on that memory too long; the terrible fury it stirred threatened to destroy his tenuous hold on control.  In his lifetime he had seen his share of suffering, had even experienced it himself.  But as a starship captain, he was trained to remain somewhat detached when injury or death struck down one of his crew.  A necessary skill for one who chose to lead others, still, it wasn't always an easy thing to do.  Especially when the one suffering was not only just your best friend, but also your lover...Kirk shuddered.  No amount of training could ever prepare you for that. 

 

Bernoll had looked in on them once and Kirk suspected he was keeping the other investigators at bay.  It was something for which he was exceedingly grateful.  Spock needed the peace and quiet, and Kirk needed time to regroup.  And to focus on how to catch this...thing before he struck again.

 

Spock stirred, head lifting slightly off the pillow.  Placed on his stomach in deference to the wounds on his back, his range of vision and motion were severely limited.  It was another reason why Kirk stayed close. The Vulcan's eyes opened once again, but this time there seemed to be more awareness in the brown depths.  He blinked once, twice before his bleary gaze rested on Kirk.

 

“Hey there.”  Kirk leaned forward, propping his elbows against the side of the bed.  “How do you feel?”

 

Spock's eyes moved past him, taking in as much of the room as he could before resting on Kirk once again.  He frowned slightly.

 

Kirk answered the unspoken question.  “You're in the hospital.  The doctor says you're doing fine.  You just need some rest, then you can go home.”

 

Spock stared at him for a moment, then gave a slow nod.  One hand slid forward slightly and Kirk quickly covered it with his own.  He squeezed gently, letting that simple gesture say what words could not. 

 

“...Jim...”  There was a wealth of pain and exhaustion in that one word, but a tinge of relief, as well.

 

“It's okay, Spock.  I'm right here.  Go back to sleep.”

 

Another nod, then the eyes closed and the Vulcan's breathing evened out once more.  Kirk leaned back, still maintaining his light hold, and started thinking about the case.

 

At first there had been high expectations that the house where Spock was found would provide the clues they needed to lead them to their suspect.  Unfortunately, those hopes were soon dashed when it was discovered the house was vacant, the homeowner having put it up for sale a few months ago after moving off-planet.  When contacted and told of what happened, he informed the investigators that only the realtor was supposed to have access to the house and if someone was staying there, they were doing so without permission.  To make matters worse, in what was becoming a increasingly frustrating pattern, a detailed search of the house and its immediate surroundings failed to yield even one shred of evidence as to who the intruder was.

 

 

The choice of victim was also proving to be a dead-end.  The only thing they all had in common were they were all Starfleet.  Clearly whoever was behind this drew satisfaction more from the uniform than those who wore it. 

 

There was, however, some consistency in the pattern of attacks.  Kirk was convinced the perpetrator stalked his victims before making his move, learning their habits, otherwise, how could he abduct all four without notice?  There were even signature elements in his treatment of his captives, including sadism, humiliation, and torture, although based on Spock's injuries, such behavior seemed to be escalating.  Still, it left very little to go on.  There had to be something more, something he kept missing...only psychotics attacked completely at random and even then, they usually struck close to home.

 

Close to home...

 

A theory began to crystallize and he quickly reached for his communicator.  Less than a half an hour later, he had turned a corner of the room into a makeshift office, complete with terminal and direct communication with the investigative team at the base.  Filled with renewed purpose, he picked up a stylus and padd, and once again settling himself next to Spock, began to sketch, marking the approximate sites where each victim was abducted, as well as the areas where they had been found.  The investigators had told him that the first abduction site would be the most significant, as a serial criminal usually committed his first crime close to home, then would widen his search as his confidence grew.    Which would put him...Kirk marked a broad circle.  So where would the actual crime scenes fit in?  The only one they knew for sure, the house where Spock had been found, seemed totally random compared to the four sites where each victim had been taken, looping through the circle he'd drawn.

 

Kirk frowned.  Looping?  With a little imagination, the four crime scenes formed the section of another circle, with each point connecting chronologically to the one next to it, ending at that remote house...

 

His attention strayed, as it was wont to do, to the sleeping sprawl of black hair and gangly limbs next to him.  The sight never failed to fill him with such gratitude and sheer relief it almost left him lightheaded.  Resting one hand against the Vulcan's jaw, where the strong carotid beat thumped against his fingers, Kirk turned his attention back to the padd.

 

Two circles.  One possibly representing home base for their suspect, the other...what?  Something known only to the perpetrator?  Still, even if he couldn't figure its significance, maybe by finishing the circle, it would give some indication as to where this monster just take his next victim.  Then again, Kirk could be totally wrong about the whole thing.

 

He gave a frustrated sigh.  Even if he was right, that left over 80 kilometers to search.  Not much help at all.

 

 

Maybe he was going about this the wrong way.  Maybe the key was the perpetrator himself.  Kirk knew from the investigators that he was most likely a sociopath:  charming, sexually active, probably even employed.  Highly intelligent as well, considering the ease in which he'd taken four members of Starfleet, one of them a Vulcan.  So what had set him off?  Had a loved one been injured or killed by a member of the Fleet?  Had the suspect himself once attended the Academy with high hopes of joining their ranks, only to fail?  Or had something else happened?  Whatever it was, had it resulted in such bitterness and anger he was now driven to commit these heinous acts?  If so, he wasn't about to stop anytime soon.  Unless and until he was caught...

 

**_He found her.  Another to fulfill his needs._ **

****

**_As with the others, he bided his time, learning his prey's routine, its habits, its weaknesses.  The last one had hardly any, spending most of its time with another.  This one, however, was almost always blissfully alone.  As if offering itself to him..._ **

****

**_He never got too close, though, never wanting to gain any personal knowledge of his targets.  He didn't know, didn't even want to know any of their names.  For that would make them significant somehow, would wreak havoc with his intentions once they were in his hands, leaving him with nagging doubts afterward and ruining his pleasure.  No, it was better to think of them as mere objects, worthless beings he had the right to enjoy in any way he saw fit.  Like this one.  She was practically begging him to take her, to teach her the same lessons he'd taught the others..._ **

****

**_Lessons they all deserved.  The bastards, meddling in other people's business where they had no right to or not getting involved when they should...protecting their worthless own while allowing others to suffer.  How dare they think they could ruin his life and not pay?  Just like...he shook his head.  His mother had deserved so much better..._ **

****

**_And for that, they all had to pay._ **

****

**_His prey disappeared into the station and he settled back into the shadows to wait._ **

None of the hospital staff seemed surprised or even bothered that Kirk had set up his small office in Spock's room.  Whether that was because of Bernoll's authority Kirk couldn't be sure, nor did he really care.  All that mattered was he could conduct his investigation and still remain close at hand to tend to his charge.  The only time he left was for an occasional meeting in the hall with Bernoll and/or one or more of the investigators.

 

Almost two full days had passed since he'd found Spock and Kirk still had no idea who they were looking for.  Running his theories through the computer had resulted in a list of potential suspects who were now under the watchful eye of base security.  Another list of isolated areas and/or abandoned housing within short distances from the four abduction sites sent even more personnel on stakeout, leaving their forces stretched painfully thin.  Neither list, however, could provide any guarantee of success and if his theories were wrong, if someone else suffered or died as a result...

 

Kirk returned to the room after another fruitless meeting.  The door slid open silently and he made his way carefully across the room, not wanting to disturb the occupant's rest.  As he reached the bed, the sight that met his eyes immediately eased some of his frustration.

 

 

Spock, as usual, was fast asleep.  He was now positioned more comfortably on his side, curled into a loose fetal position, pillows tucked against his chest and back for added support.  His skin tone once again had a healthy green tinge, vying with the grotesque rainbow coloring of the few remaining bruises.  His hands, nearly normal size now, were folded under his chin, and his breathing was deep and even, a clear sign his once-broken ribs were no longer an issue.  All indications the body was healing, but the defensive posture served as reminder the spirit wasn't so quick to rebound.  In a way, Kirk was grateful Spock slept so much.  It gave him time to regain his strength-strength he would need when it came time to face the trauma of his ordeal.

 

But he was alive and safe, and recovering more and more each day.  For now, that was enough.  Kirk eased himself down into the chair that had become a permanent fixture next to the bed, resisting the urge to reach out and touch, to have tangible proof Spock was really there.  Instead, he turned back to his search for the one responsible for all this.

 

Even as he became absorbed in his task, a part of his awareness remained on the still form, so he was there the moment the dark eyes opened.  He grinned.  “About time you woke up. I've heard of people needing their beauty sleep, but this is ridiculous.”

 

There was no response to his gentle teasing.  Instead, those eyes stared blankly ahead.

 

Kirk grimaced at the empty look.  He leaned forward, cradling one of the still slightly swollen hands.  “Spock, you with me?”  He himself had been through the recovery routine before, more times than he cared to remember, knew that sometimes it took a number of short awakenings before any real comprehension or coherence returned.  In Spock's case, there had been some signs of that already, but nothing like this.  This was distance by choice, a deliberate attempt to shut himself off from the world.  It was something that could only prove detrimental to Spock, possibly even delay his recovery.  Kirk was not about to let that happen.

 

“Spock, don't you dare do this to me.  Come back, mister.  That's an order.”

 

For a moment there was no response, then Spock took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  They were focused and alert when he opened them up again.  “Jim.”  His throat was still painfully raw from the near-strangulation.

 

“That's better.  You remember where you are?”

 

A tired nod, then the eyes closed again.  “Has he...?”

 

“Not yet.  But we are making progress.”

 

Another nod, then silence descended over the room.  After a moment, Kirk gave him a gentle nudge.  “You want some water?”

 

A pause, then, “Please.”

 

Kirk lent a hand for support as Spock drank nearly half the glass held to his lips before pulling away and settling back against the pillows.  Kirk set the glass down and once again took his lover's hand in his own.  Spock made no effort to pull away, instead, his own fingers tightened around Kirk's. 

 

“Jim?”

 

“Yes, Spock?”

 

 

“How long must I remain here?”

 

“Just until tomorrow.  The doctor says by then, the drugs will be out of your system.  You do need a few more days' rest, but you can get that at home.”

 

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but just then the door slid open and one of the investigators, Haskins? - no - Haskell, stepped in.  “Captain?  Can we see you for a moment?”

 

Time for yet another meeting, one that would probably be as futile as all the others.  “Certainly.”  He turned back to Spock.  “This shouldn't take long.  I'll be right back.”

 

Spock nodded, then closed his eyes and curled himself more tightly around the pillow.

 

Kirk rose and left the room, inwardly cursing the monster who'd dared harm his Vulcan and worse, was still out there somewhere, free to inflict the same kind of pain and torture on yet another innocent being...

 

Ten minutes later, he returned.  As the door slid shut, he leaned wearily against the wall.

 

Spock was as he left him, yet his next words proved he was fully aware.  “He has taken another.”

 

Kirk didn't ask how he knew.  “Yes.”  Ensign Jody Taft, 24 years old, third generation Starfleet.  Disappeared without a trace.  Just like all the rest...

 

He made his way across the room and sank into the chair.  He reached out and his hand was immediately caught and held with desperate strength.

 

For a long while neither moved nor spoke until Spock finally fell back into a restless sleep and Kirk returned to his search, more determined than ever to bring this nightmare to an end.

 

**_It was funny how much you could learn spending time with the enemy.  None of them had any idea the person they were seeking was sitting right there with them at the bar and that knowledge was another secret thrill.  It was there he'd learned the last one, the Vulcan, was a high-ranking officer on a starship, and even more enticing, had been one of those involved in the search.  What power he'd held in his hands and he hadn't even known it!_ **

****

**_The thought filled him with excitement and anticipation, so he slid off his seat and bid the others goodbye.  He was eager to return to his latest prize, who would serve as his unwilling catalyst for satisfying his cravings, his need for revenge.  A need that grew stronger every day.  So much so that when he took this one, he'd been a bit careless.  Not that it mattered, for it was obvious the others had no clue he was the one they should fear.  Idiots.  They'd never figure it out.  The feeling of invulnerability was intoxicating.  He was so much better at this than they.  He was invincible._ **

****

**_  
_ **

**_As he made his way out of the bar, he almost salivated at the thought of what was to come.  The female who awaited him would no doubt be much more expressive than the Vulcan once he began applying his methods.  Humans, after all, had a much lower threshold of pain.  It would make for a perfect evening._ **

 

“Are you sure you want to leave?”  Kirk couldn't keep the worry out of his voice.  “Maybe a few more days...”

 

“I am sure.”  The flat tone brooked no argument.  Not that Kirk could blame him-a strong distaste for hospitals was one thing they both shared.  Still, Kirk was more than a little concerned that it might not be such a wise decision for Spock to be going home so soon.  The effort of dressing and making his way out of the hospital, even in the antigrav chair, had obviously taken its toll.  Now, finally settled in the aircar, he looked ready to fade into the upholstery.  Even sitting practically sideways in the seat to avoid pressure on his back still left him hunched over in obvious discomfort.  Yet he was insistent on leaving and Kirk found he didn't have the heart to say no.  Still...

 

“All right.”  He carefully fastened the safety harness around Spock.  “But as soon as we get home, you're going straight to bed.”

 

“I do not believe...”

 

“Either that or you go back in the hospital right now.  Your choice.”

 

Spock pursed his lips, a sure sign of annoyance, but he knew better than to argue.  “Agreed.”

 

Kirk nodded, then pulled the aircar out into traffic and set a course for home. 

 

“Has there been any progress in the search?”

 

Kirk shook his head.  “Not yet.  We've got a few potential suspects under observation, but that's about it.  The way things are going, it seems we're going to need more than a little luck if...”

 

The car's intercom beeped.  “Captain Kirk?”

 

Kirk reached down and flipped the switch.  “Kirk here.”

 

“Captain, this is Haskell.  We may have a lead.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“An anonymous call.  Apparently there's been some suspicious activity near the area where Ensign Docelli was found.  Someone reported seeing a man carrying a large bundle into a house just at the edge of the park.  According to the caller, the homeowner's away and no one else is supposed to be there.  Agents are on the way.”

 

 

Kirk's heart began to pound.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock shift slightly in his seat.  “I'll be there as soon as I can.  But don't wait for me.  As soon as you're ready, get him.”

 

“Understood.  If we have him in custody before you arrive, I'll let you know.”

 

“Thanks, Haskell.  Kirk out.”  He pressed on the accelerator, pushing the aircar to its limits. 

 

“Jim, are you not aware that we are traveling in the opposite direction?”

 

“I'm aware.”

 

“May I inquire as to why?”

 

“Because I'm dropping you off first, that's why.”

 

Spock straightened, a slight hiss of pain accompanying the movement.  “That will not be necessary.  I shall accompany you.”

 

“No, you won't.  You just got out of the hospital, remember?  The only thing on your agenda is bed.”

 

“Jim, please.”

 

Kirk turned, prepared to argue further, but one look into those brown eyes and the words died in his throat.  The mute appeal in the dark orbs cut him to the quick and he knew he couldn't deny Spock this any more than he could deny it for himself.

 

With one swift motion, he turned the car sharply around.

 

Spock settled down again, his eyes keenly scanning his surroundings.  Kirk shook his head.  For the first time in days, Spock was finally showing interest in something, something that Kirk normally wouldn't have let him have any part in otherwise.

 

About a kilometer away from their destination, they converged with several Starfleet security vehicles, along with a number of unmarked cars.  They all pulled over about 500 meters from the house.  Right in front was a dilapidated aircar that had certainly seen better days.

 

“Wonder if that's his?”

 

“It is.”

 

Kirk glanced sharply at Spock, but the Vulcan's gaze was frozen on the house.  Kirk shook his head.

 

“I'm going with them.  Stay here.” 

 

 

No answer.  Spock didn't even seem to hear him.

 

Several of the investigators, along with security personnel, were already exiting their vehicles, cautiously taking up strategic positions around the house.

 

Kirk couldn't wait any longer.  “I'll be back soon.”  He briefly touched a rigid leg, then slid out of the car, phaser in hand. 

 

To those who were not involved in law enforcement, the capture of a fugitive might seem complicated.  In reality, with careful planning and a little luck, it usually took no more than a few seconds.  After a terse discussion with the others, Kirk took up position near the house and on signal, they all burst into the home.

 

As expected, it was over almost as soon as it had begun.  Once in the house, they immediately trained their phasers on the being who stood with his back to them in the center of the room.  A male, obviously human, broad-shouldered and muscular, dressed rather shabbily, with dirty blond hair that hung in limp strands to his shoulders.  Directly in front of him, tied spread-eagled to the floor, lay a naked, battered, and bleeding form.  Jody Taft.  The thick cloth covering her eyes kept her from seeing her rescuers, but her complete lack of movement or sound pointed toward unconsciousness.  Or a body frozen with fear.  Kirk swallowed hard at the stark, visual reminder of his own rescue of Spock.

 

The man didn't even try to resist.  Within seconds he was face down on the ground, stasis cuffs closing around his wrists.  Anger and loathing twisted the face of every person in the room, but they were professionals, trained to use only the amount of force necessary to bring their target to justice.  For Kirk, the only reason he himself was able to maintain control was due to the presence of the others.  Had he been alone...

 

He did allow himself to approach the restrained captive, crouching down to take in the features of the no-longer faceless monster that had haunted his dreams the past few days.  Blank eyes, devoid of emotion, regarded him with total disinterest.  Kirk's fury slowly dissipated, leaving disgust and revulsion in its place.  He made no effort to hide the hatred and rage boiling inside him when he spoke.

 

“Going after Starfleet personnel was a mistake.  Going after my first officer was potential suicide.  You're lucky they got to you before I did.” 

 

The eyes didn't even blink, just stared at him apathetically.  Feeling strangely empty, Kirk stood, turning his back to the pathetic excuse for a human being.

 

Finally, it was over.

 

A sharp intake of breath jerked his head up.  There, braced in the doorway stood Spock, ashen-faced, staring wide-eyed at the dirty, disheveled man still pinned to the ground.

 

“Damn it, Spock!”  Kirk rose, slapping his phaser to his side as he hurried over to the Vulcan.  “I told you to stay in the car!  Why the hell didn't you...?”

 

 

His tirade died down as he realized Spock was shivering uncontrollably, face deathly pale, to all appearances seconds away from total collapse.  Kirk quickly looped an arm around his waist, guiding him to a nearby chair.  Once he was seated, Kirk knelt in front of him.  He took the still-swollen hands between his own and gave a gentle squeeze.  “Spock?”

 

But his soft query was ignored as Spock's gaze remained focused over his shoulder.  Kirk turned to see two security personnel crouched in front of Taft, swiftly loosening her bonds while third covered her with a blanket.  He could hear the distant warbling of emergency vehicles, indicating help was on the way.

 

As for the...thing...responsible for all this... Kirk gestured toward a nearby investigator.  “Get him out of here, would you?”

 

“Right away, Captain.”  Moments later he and the others had hustled the suspect away and Kirk noted that medics were now busily attending to the still-unconscious woman on the ground.

 

“Was he hurt, too?”

 

Kirk started slightly and glanced up to see a medic staring at Spock, brow furrowed in concern.

 

“No, he's fine.  Just a little shook up.”  This time.  The medic hesitated, then nodded and left.  Kirk turned his attention back to his charge.  Spock was still shivering, so he took off his jacket and wrapped it around the thin shoulders. 

 

“C'mon, Spock, it's all over.  Let's go home.”

 

Awareness returned to the brown orbs and the Vulcan shook his head.  “No.  I...wish to go to the hospital.”

 

Alarm rose.  “Are you all right?”

 

Another shake of the dark head.  Spock still hadn't taken his eyes off the knot of people gathered around the young ensign.

 

“I...need to know whether she...she will recover.”

 

Kirks' shoulders sagged in relief.  “There's no reason to go to the hospital for that.  I can have Bernoll or one of the investigators call when...”

 

“No.”

 

“Spock, it's going to take some time before we know anything.  I think it's best that we just go home.”

 

“No.”  Spock finally tore his gaze away from Taft to give Kirk a pleading look.  “Please, Jim.  I must...”  His voice trailed off as his eyes once again returned to that still form.

 

 

Kirk could understand.  It was said that a bond often formed between those who shared a traumatic ordeal, as they were the only ones who could truly understand what the other had endured.  Thankfully in this case, there would be no more victims to share that bond.  It was a closure of sorts, one that Spock seemed determined to see through to the end.

 

“All right, but just until we know her condition.  After that it's straight home.”

 

A slight hesitation, then, “Agreed.”

 

Even as he helped Spock to his feet, Kirk was already regretting his decision.  The Vulcan's skin was like ice, almost as if he were on the edge of shock and he was nearly as white as when he had first been rescued.  Whether it was reaction from what he'd just seen, or catharsis, or whatever, Spock was now trembling so hard his teeth rattled.  Not good.  Not good at all.

 

Yet Kirk found himself carefully guiding his unsteady charge out of the house as they followed the stretcher carrying Taft away from this living nightmare.  He glanced back just once at the now-empty room, only a small stain of blood serving as a reminder of the pain and suffering that had taken place there.  The cost had been high, almost too high for Kirk, but they'd done it, caught the one responsible.  Now it was time for the two of them to heal, to forge the bonds of love and trust that were the cornerstone of their relationship and to start rebuilding their future. 

 

Drawing his arm tighter around Spock, Kirk headed toward the car.

 

**_So they had finally caught him.  Had actually managed to figure it out.  So what.  They may have stopped him for now, but they couldn't take away his memories of all he'd accomplished.  He would live off them until he was free and could hunt again._ **

****

**_He smiled at the blank wall of the interrogation room.  They actually believed they'd won.  One had even mocked him, but it made no difference.  He'd gotten what he wanted, exacted his revenge and what did they get?  Nothing.  He was the one who had truly been successful, had triumphed over them all.  Everything else was as unimportant as the empty lives he'd dominated._ **

****

**_He settled back contentedly to wait and see what happened next._ **

 

 Kirk had never been in this part of the hospital before, but it really didn't matter.  Seated on the small couch in the visitor's room, he noted the walls were painted in the same bland colors universal to all such institutions.  He and Spock were alone, waiting for word on the young ensign's condition.

 

Spock, for his part, was uncharacteristically restless, pacing slowly back and forth across the room.  Everything about him spoke of exhaustion and pain, and Kirk figured only sheer Vulcan stubbornness was keeping him on his feet.

 

“Spock, that's enough.  You're dead on your feet.”  He patted the couch.  “Come sit down.”

 

 

Spock spared him a brief glance before continuing his journey across the room.  Stubborn, indeed.  Clearly more persuasive measures were needed.

 

Kirk rose and gently but firmly took hold of an arm.  “You can just as easily wait sitting down.  Now come on.”

 

For a moment Spock hesitated, then allowed Kirk to lead him over to the couch and settle him down.  Almost immediately, he shifted forward as if to rise. 

 

“No, Spock, don't...”

 

“It is not that.  My back...”

 

“Oh. Sorry.”  Kirk had forgotten about the still-healing welts and bruises.  “Let's try something else then.”  He held out his arms.  “Come here.”

 

Spock eyed him uncertainly, apprehension and even a trace of fear flickering through those dark eyes.  Kirk could understand.  His entire life, Spock had been under constant pressure to maintain control at all times, to never show weakness, to conduct himself in proper Vulcan fashion.  A large part of being a Vulcan was preserving one's pride and dignity, and Spock was a proud man.  Over the years spent with Kirk, he eventually learned to trust in their friendship enough to lower those barriers from time to time; still, such occasions were rare.  Even now, with their new relationship, Spock often found it difficult to let go of that control he'd strived all his life to achieve.  It was only when they were alone that he felt secure enough to let those walls down and allow himself to bask in the love and trust he knew he could always find in Kirk's arms and his heart.

 

Now, with Bernoll and the investigative team just outside the door of their small sanctuary, Kirk had had some doubts his offer would be accepted.  So he was pleasantly surprised when, after a brief moment, Spock shifted closer and settled himself in Kirk's arms.  Kirk shifted position slightly until the dark head was cradled comfortably in his lap.  He began gently stroking the sleek black hair until the eyes drifted closed, only to snap open again.

 

“Jim, will you...?”

 

“As soon as I hear anything.  I promise.”  With his free hand, Kirk adjusted his jacket more firmly over his charge.  “Now go to sleep.”

 

Spock nodded and closed his eyes once again.  Within moments, he was asleep.  Kirk gazed down at the peaceful form, filled with a sense of utter gratitude and relief.  As bad as it had been, it could have been so much worse.  If it taken another day, another hour to find Spock, it might very well have been too late.  But it was over now.  Spock had suffered at the hands of his captor, had been beaten, physically and emotionally, but not broken.  Now, with Kirk's love and support, he could begin to heal.  They both could.

 

“Captain?”

 

Kirk looked up to see Haskell standing in the doorway.  He nodded toward the nearby chair.

 

 

Haskell sat, perching on the edge of the seat.  He spared only a brief, curious glance at Spock, then spoke quietly.  “Thought you'd like to know what we've discovered about our suspect.  It turns out his stepfather was in Starfleet, but was dishonorably discharged after about two years of service.  Seems he had a hard time obeying orders.  Afterward, he settled here on the base with his family.  Apparently, however, his discharge left him very bitter and angry, and he decided to take it out on his wife and stepson.  For the next several years, he was in and out of prison on various spousal and child abuse charges until he died about ten years ago.  As for our suspect, several of the base personnel recognized him, said he hung out with them at a local bar.  He seemed very interested whenever they talked about the case, even made some suggestions as to how they might catch the guy.”  Haskell shook his head.  “Classic story of misplaced anger.  His mother died a few weeks ago.  That's what probably set him off.”

 

Kirk nodded his agreement.  Textbook case, indeed, right down to immersing himself in the investigation.  All the earmarks of a potential serial killer.  They could all count themselves very lucky he'd been stopped in time.

 

A knock on the door and they looked up to see another investigator in the doorway.

 

“We just got word.  Jill-Ensign Taft-is going to be okay.”  His ruddy face broke into a grin.

 

Kirk and Haskell shared a look of relief, then Haskell rose.  He nodded at Spock.  “Tell your first officer we're all very glad he's okay.”

 

“Thanks, I will.”  As Haskell left, Kirk settled back contentedly.  Score one for the good guys.  He still needed to tell Spock about Taft, but at the moment, his companion needed sleep more than anything else.  Soon, however, Spock would be well and both would be ready to resume their relationship in all its facets.  Kirk hoped it wouldn't be too long.  After all, he had a promise to keep.

 

As he gradually drifted awake, Kirk turned his head and opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of his bedmate.  Spock lay on his back, dark head resting on the pillow, eyes closed, chest rising and falling evenly as he slept.  His body was stretched out on the mattress, every inch exposed to Kirk's hungry gaze, as sometime during the night, during the heat of their passion, the sheets had ended up at the bottom of the bed. 

Kirk lifted a hand and placed it gently on the furred chest.  The skin was warm to his touch, a reassuring sign, one of many that Spock was recovering well from his traumatic ordeal.  Kirk began tracing small circles over his lover's skin, skating around the pliant nipples, careful not to touch them.  His hand slid lazily down the sternum, over the flat stomach, and down to the groin.  Kirk lifted himself up and shifted onto his side, scooting down so his head was positioned above his hand.  His fingers trailed down the flaccid penis, circling the tip before traveling back up again.  The flesh was warm under his fingers, warm and alive.  He continued to trace tiny circles along its length as blood began rushing through tiny vessels, increasing its size, its girth.  Spock stirred slightly, but did not wake even as his body responded to Kirk's touch.  Kirk leaned forward and gently blew on the hardening shaft, fingers gently cupping the soft testicles.  Then he lowered his head and ran his tongue over the spongy flesh of the head, making wet circles around its circumference.  He took the cock in his hand, lifting it slightly so he could move his tongue up, down, all around and over the quivering flesh.  He laved it slowly, carefully, making long, wet strokes with his tongue.  He once again blew on the wet skin, sending shivers along the length of the rapidly stiffening penis, causing Spock to moan low in his throat. 

 

Hands tangled in Kirk's hair, trying to push him even further down.  He obeyed that unspoken request, taking the rigid flesh in his mouth, his hand massaging and squeezing the velvety, warm sacs in his hand.  His head lowered and rose, keeping a steady rhythm, savoring every movement of Spock's cock in his mouth as it responded to the steady tempo.  Kirk shifted position once more, moving between the open legs where he would have better purchase, better access, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in his backside, a reminder of his own gift to Spock last night.  He opened his throat, taking in as much of Spock as he could, surrounding the throbbing shaft with his own hot, wet mouth. 

 

He resumed sucking the flaming organ, one hand still milking the balls, the other sliding up to tease the opening of the sensitive anus.  Spock moaned and spread his legs wider, his hands releasing Kirk to clutch at the mattress.  Clearly he was close to the edge and as Kirk clamped his mouth firmly over the hard cock, it responded, stiffening into stillness, then erupting in the throes of orgasm as Spock's thigh muscles spasmed and his hips thrust upward once before collapsing back down onto the bed. 

 

Kirk held the softening flesh in his mouth, cleaning it gently with tongue and lips.  Spock lay limp beneath him, chest heaving, breath shallow, eyes still closed.  Kirk finished his ministrations, then returned to his lover's side, gathering the lean form close.  Dark eyes opened and met his own.  The sheer joy and happiness shining out of the brown orbs brought a huge smile to Kirk's face, a smile which was immediately returned.  He pulled Spock even closer, guiding the dark head to rest against his chest.  He gently stroked the sleek black hair, filled with a sense of utter peace and contentment.

 

_He's alive.  Alive and well and with me.  Nothing else matters.  And from now on, I'm going to show him just how important he is to me, in every way I possibly can.  Every day and every night for the rest of our lives._

_And beyond...._


End file.
